


Upon This Barricade

by BekkaPramheda



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:38:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BekkaPramheda/pseuds/BekkaPramheda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was intrigued by the three-sentence prompt which was going around a few weeks ago. So, here we have one three-sentence snapshot of each of the Amis, set as the barricade is completed and before the first assault. Beta'd by tumblr user lovethefutureisthine - thank you! :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Upon This Barricade

Courfeyrac

Courfeyrac took two steps back to admire his friends' handiwork. Though he knew that it wasn't as tall as it could be – needed to be – from so close, the barricade was a majestic structure. He smiled abruptly, laughed, and called out,

“Enjolras, did you purposefully make it symmetrical?”

 

Feuilly

There was not much which startled Feuilly any more. And guns, blades, and fire – what were they, really, compared to good friends and good causes? So rather than worrying, he picked up a book that he'd found propped in the first floor window of the Corinth (thin, blue, embossed with gold,) considered reading the spine, and instead flipped straight to the introduction – he never had been able to resist the adventure of a page which was not preceded by a cover, a word which never before today had possessed a life apart from the title which had always defined its being.

 

Enjolras

A barricade was a microcosm of a republic, and the men swarming around it each had a role to fill which befitted their personal strengths and skills. And as such, Enjolras acted with serenity, grace, composure, and a sort of calm power that he thought befit the leader of such a group as his, in such an uprising as this one. In his mind, though, he reveled in his awareness of a people moving around him.

 

Bahorel

Bahorel hadn't gotten in a good scuffle for a few weeks, and felt prepared, excited even. Not every day a boy gets to overthrow the government. They've got a lot of guns – well, we've got a lot of people, they can knock themselves out.

 

Lesgles

Bossuet had dropped a table on his foot as the barricade went up. He was neither surprised nor upset. He thought, _I'll have much worse bruises than this one, before long_.

 

Prouvaire

To Jehan, the barricade was a piece of art. When this is over, he thought, I'll write an epic about it. Upon reflection, he couldn't recall the last time he hadn't seen something as a piece of art; as a result, his poetry queue was overwhelmingly large.

 

Combeferre

Combeferre watched his friends organize their defenses with a degree of pleasure. He felt as though he was watching the workings of an exceptionally efficient machine – and better yet, he noted, its efficiency depended on the determination and motivation of each, and so given some early momentum it would function continually better as its previous functionality continued to motivate its – components? Members? Citizens? - to work better and fight harder. Contented with this discovery, he sat back and reached for the anatomy textbook he'd brought, only to find that it had disappeared.

 

Joly

Joly was balanced precariously on the edge of a chair that was pinned into place halfway up the barricade, swinging his legs. He found the repetitive movement, and the ability to see all of the preparations at once, soothing. He told himself that the anxiety would pass, and that in the heat of battle, he wouldn't think to be afraid – at least, that was what had happened the last few times.

 

Grantaire

Grantaire slept and did not stir: still, he dreamed. He dreamed of blood and fire and the end of the world, and he dreamed of stillness – of terrible silence that followed the extinguishing of each of the tiny flickers of beauty in a sea of black. And though he slept, his heart ached.


End file.
